Keeping Warm
by theatrebaby88
Summary: The night is bitter, but not all are miserable. (AU Merlin Fanfic based after 4x13 as if Isolde didn't die.) (WARNING: CONTAINS MILD SEXUAL REFERENCE)


The night was bitter. The snow came down in drifts, carpeting the streets of Camelot in a thick blanket of white as a cold northerly wind blew hard through the alleys and lanes.

The peasant's home was a simple, one room, wattle and daub fixture with a straw roof; just like the others that were situated near by.

Inside the house, on a small bed, Tristan pulled the thin blanket over himself and Isolde then pulled her into his arms, her back to his chest. The fabric of her nightgown was flimsy and had seen better days, it now failed to keep out much of the cold. Tristan sighed as he kissed Isolde's neck and shoulder; "You're shivering..." He stated.

Isolde cuddled into Tristan, the heat of his body against hers giving only slight relief from the biting chill. "Because I'm cold.." She replied, then kissed the crook of his arm lightly, "That happens in the winter!" she added with a tone of sarcasm, though they both knew she was merely playing.

Tristan smiled and swiftly grabbed her ribs, then chuckled as she gave a slight squeal, startling slightly. "That'll teach you for back-talking!" He told her, though again it was in jest.

Isolde swatted at Tristan's arm; "You know I hate that!" She said, almost whiny, then turned to him; pouting slightly. "And if you want to keep your hands, Tristan, I suggest you do keep them..to yourself!"

Tristan raised his eyebrows then smirked; "You would be wise to watch what you tell me to do. Do you really want me to keep my hands to myself, Isolde? Are you certain you don't wish for me to put my hands elsewhere?" He then kissed her swiftly; "And don't pout...you look like a salmon when you do!"

Isolde burst into laughter when he compared her to a salmon; "Oh that is rich! Coming from a man who resembles a turtle when he stretches his neck!" She teased back. There was no malice in their name-calling or teasing. It was merely lovers play and actually rather endearing.

Tristan gritted his teeth then sharply inhaled; "Touche madam! But you are changing the subject! Do you really want me to keep my hands to myself?" He asked again, this time propping himself up so he was looking down at his woman.

Isolde giggled and kissed him lightly;"Where else would you put them otherwise?" She asked him, feigning innocence in her voice. She was loving this. Enjoying teasing her partner in a playful sense and taking comfort in the feeling of his arms around her. He was more than her lover, he was her companion, protector, and he meant everything to her.

Tristan again smiled then kissed Isolde once on the lips, then ran his hand up her side.."How about here?" He said, "Or here.." He asked as he kissed her again, moving his hand farther up the material of the nightgown. To him, this love-play was as beautiful as the act that would soon take place. She was his rock, his confidante and his companion, behind every great man stood a great woman, or so they said, but for Tristan, that 'great woman' stood not behind him, but by his side.

Isolde bit down on her lower lip slightly at the feel of Tristan's hand on her nightgown. But she wouldn't cave in so easily. Their teasing and playfulness went on for a while, with both giving as good as the other, but soon the laughter and teasing faded as the night gave way to the sounds of lovers. And as cold as the night wind blew out in the streets, in that room, at that moment, it didn't seem to exist.

Tristan's arms were strong, and he held Isolde tightly in them as beads of sweat ran down the defined muscles in his back and chest. His blond hair now darker and damp ,felt oddly matted but not as though he was unkempt. He looked down, breathless, at his woman, her blue eyes slightly darker with lust and a light pink flush over her bust and cheeks. He could feel her heart racing against his chest as they lay together in the darkness, the only sound their breathing.

After a while, Tristan moved so he again lay beside Isolde and pulled her into his arms, his chest to her back, skin to skin. "Are you still cold?" He asked softly, kissing from her shoulder to just below her ear.

Isolde gave a hazy, sleepy smile; "It's winter..."


End file.
